In Bed With A Stranger(40)

“I don’t wish to be a burden to anyone.”

“’Tis a delight to have one of those men marry up. This house needs life, mistress.”

The title of mistress made her smile. She simply could not help it. It was a word that she’d never expected to hear applied to herself. It wasn’t pampering that she coveted in the position, only the respect. The chance to be judged solely on what she did.

“Into yer doublet. Cook has the supper out.”

Her belly was empty, but that wasn’t what motivated her. Anne gratefully quit the chamber with its large bed. Besides, she would have no one’s wrists aching from bringing a tray to her.

Helen led her down the stairs and into a long hallway. The evening light streamed through small openings in the stone walls. Helen kept walking until they reached another of the large round towers. There was a buzz of conversation floating into the hallway. When they reached the arched opening, she stared at a wide expanse of tables. Fires were blazing in the hearths that circled the room. It was exactly like the great hall at Warwickshire, only round. Long tables filled it and there was a raised dais at one end with thick chairs set on more carpets. Beneath the tables there was only stone, but it had been swept clean. Anne nodded approval, seeing the sense in it. Spills and crumbs might be swept up easily.

Many of the tables were already full of the earl’s retainers. They talked freely as the food was passed between them. A hush fell over the room as she entered. The servants paused in their duties to cast inquisitive looks her direction.

“May I present Mary Spencer, daughter of the Earl of Warwickshire. My wife.”

Brodick’s voice bounced off the walls, surprising her with its volume. He stood at the dais, one foot propped on the top step. He looked completely confident there, a vision of strength. The room erupted in a cheer that startled her. Brodick smiled, holding out a hand in welcome.

Guilt showed up again to crush her with its weight. Every step across the hall was pure torment because she felt like an actor. Men tugged on the corners of their bonnets in respect, while others raised their tankards with good wishes.

She was worse than a charlatan.

The good cheer filled the room, conversation resuming. Brodick didn’t climb the remaining step to the dais. Instead, he met her on the main floor. Satisfaction was shimmering in his midnight eyes. Her throat went dry. He closed his hand around hers firmly, clearly confident that all obstacles had been removed from his path. Excitement ripped through her, sending a surge of emotion along her limbs. His eyes narrowed as he felt the shiver in her hand. His thumb reached to rub across the tender skin of her inner wrist. She gasped softly as sensation rippled up her arm. It was such a simple touch, but so intense, her knees weakened.

“Would the pair of ye mind waiting until supper is over?”

Anne jumped, shocked at her own inattention. Fiona was eyeing them from the nearest table. She fluttered her eyelashes while smiling so sweetly a nun couldn’t have taken exception to her.

“Those simpering looks might make me lose my appetite.”

Brodick grunted. “Ye remember my sister. She’s the talk of half of Scotland, even if our father spent a fortune on tutors to train her better.”

“Gossip should never be believed.” Fiona offered a mischievous smile along with her comment. She reached for a round of bread and pulled a piece off. “No one truly cares what I do.”

“Not so, Sister. I am very interested in what ye’ve been about.” Brodick stepped over the bench and sat down across from his sister. Cullen was seated a few feet away, joking with other young men. Unlike Warwickshire, there appeared to be no finery laid out for the nobles. They broke bread with their people, ate off the same platters.

Brodick left the fine chairs on the dais empty choosing to sit with his men instead.

“That was my father’s table.”

Anne turned her attention back to Brodick. His expression was solemn. “I will nae sit there until I’ve earned the right, as my father did. Until I sit there with my family, showing the McJames name to be one that will continue.” He gazed at her. “I hope you dinnae mind.”

He lifted one foot and straddled a bench.

Brodick watched her, waiting to see what she made of his table. She sat on the bench, choosing the end nearest him and brought her legs about to be beneath the table.

“This is a fine table, I am honored to sit at it.” The scent of warm food drew a rumble from her belly. Brodick groaned.

“I’ve been remiss in feeding you. Now that we’re home, Bythe will take delight in stuffing ye.”

He began piling food on her plate, much larger portions than she could eat.